


The Best Kind of Mischief

by imouta (shyspace)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Dancing, F/M, Fingering, Girl Gang, Kissing, Making Out, Masked ball, Masks, Masquerade, Minor plot, Parties, Passionate Sex, Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex, balls, dressing up, its 4 in the goddamn morning please help me, its not super developed im sorry, reader is literally a goddess, squad goals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 09:04:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15069818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyspace/pseuds/imouta
Summary: You're a lonely Asgardian deity whose sphere is the arts and creativity. When your close friend suggests sneaking into the masquerade ball being held at the palace, you can't refuse the chance to run into the God of Lies himself. The last thing you expected was to end up in his bedroom.





	The Best Kind of Mischief

**Author's Note:**

> This was largely inspired by the "I Want Candy"/shopping scene in the Marie Antoinette film by Sofia Coppola and the subsequent masked ball scene. It's on Netflix and I highly recommend you check it out because it's extremely well done, plus it's literally the definition of *AESTHETICS*. 
> 
> I had lots of fun writing this, and I really hope you enjoy it. I made the reader an art deity because I thought it would make a really fun backstory and character. I actually did some research, apparently there's no Norse god of the arts. No harm in making one, right? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> ALSO: I totally screwed up the formatting on this, so if you read this before I fixed it, I'm sooo sorry. 
> 
> Enjoy!

If there was one thing you loved about Asgard, it had to be its beauty.

 

When night came about, the white marble could turn the most brilliant shade of pink, peach, or lavender, depending on how the skies were. From wherever you stood, the stars would glitter like a spilled box of jewels among a blanket of dark silks. The buildings were carved with the finest detail, no matter what it was built for.

Asgardians had a very keen eye for art, whether it was visual, auditory or physical. Not only could they paint, carve, and design with gifted hands and eyes, but the music they produced was divine. It was, indeed, a holy realm, one where talent ran all around.

 

Of course, they had you to thank.

 

“Goddess of Creativity.” That was your title. You could also go by “Goddess of the Arts” or “The Lady of Inspiration” or something like that, but “creativity” was the gist of it, really. Compared to the other gods, your power was limited. You couldn’t summon lightning or change your shape. Sure, you were a polymath in regards to anything artsy, but you couldn’t defend yourself in battle by drawing a picture or singing a pretty song.

Still, you silently blessed your abilities. It made you happy to be able to, figuratively, sprinkle inspiration on those who needed it most. Even you knew how it felt to get stuck, to feel unable to reproduce that perfect image in your head of a masterpiece. You particularly enjoyed walking past the carvers at work, or the poets, and watching as new ideas seemed to come upon them like golden rain, and as smiles came upon their faces, they worked twice as diligently than before.

You mostly spent your days as an advisor to those involved in the arts on Asgard, relatively well-known for being multitalented, but not necessarily famous. You held a high position, teaching and directing projects and such, and thus you lived a comfortable life.\

Being the right-brained sort of deity you were, though, things could get boring. You craved change. You still needed a break from the usual every now and again. That’s when you got a scroll from Sonya.

Surprisingly, there wasn’t a massive penis drawn on it this time, or a stupid joke to make you laugh (or groan, depending on the subject matter.) It was an invitation, written in the most formal way she could manage, to join her and your other friends on a little vacation. Considering the fact that Sonya was filthy rich, “a little vacation” basically meant the chance to sit around, act like a princess, and pretend literally nothing mattered.

 

And that’s how you got here.

 

All day, you had been shopping for silks and jewelry and any kind of pretty, decorative thing a lady could ever desire, accompanied by your best friends. Gods, it was fun. You laughed, you played around, you fancied yourself a doll by trying on every colored, embroidered, and jewel-studded thing you could get your hands on. You drank wine and slipped your feet into gold slippers that slapped against the stone grounds and wooden floors, but seemed to mold to your feet perfectly. You snacked on grapes and candies and pastries that looked too pretty to eat, but were too delicious not to.

By now, it had turned dark outside, and you were all burned out of body, mind, and coin purse. You sat around in a small pile on a large, curtained-off chaise, like pampered designer cats, sipping the last of your wine and thinking to yourselves.

 

It was Liss who broke the silence. “I’ve got an interesting question.” she said with a smirk, slowly fanning herself with her new folding-fan.

“Mm?” you replied, taking a sip of your drink.

“Who do you fancy more of Odin’s sons? Thor, or Loki?”

You spit out your drink and laughed with the other girls. Liss was always the hopeless romantic.

Arja, who had red hair that she piled into a braided updo, popped a cherry into her mouth. “Of course it’s Thor. You can’t say no to that hair.”

“Nooo. He’s got too much muscle. I like them skinny.” said Sonya, who was absentmindedly embroidering a piece of canvas.

“So it’s Loki, then?” you cut in, trying to hide your smile.

Sonya shrugged lightly. “I’ve always found his eyes rather captivating.”

“He’s a bit greasy, though, isn’t he? That helmet looks ridiculous.” said Liss, eyeing the pictures on her fan. The other girls giggled.

You bit your lip and traced your finger along the edge of your glass.

 

“This gives me an idea.” said Sonya, looking in your direction. “We should all go to the masked ball at the palace tonight. I got invited.”

Leave it to her to come up with the wild ideas.

“We can’t go without invitations for everyone else.” you murmured as you passed your wine glass to Liss.

“You could forge the rest. I know you could do it fast.” she added. You’d done it before, actually, on one or two occasions, but never for a royal event.

You sighed. “They’d still probably recognize us, though. I don’t want to risk it.”

 

Sonya stopped stitching the canvas and shuffled closer to you, as if letting you in on a secret. The other girls turned their glances towards her. She smirked.

 

“Well, if it’s a masked ball, no one would have to know it was us, would they?”

 

The three of you looked at her and smiled.

 

* * *

 

  


_This is either the most genius, or the most insane thing I’ve ever done._ That’s what you thought to yourself as you signed your name on the last false letter and cast an illusion spell over it, just to be sure.

 

After about thirty minutes of powdering, perfuming, and draping yourselves in your new and fancy robes, you piled in a giggling and shrieking heap into a small chariot and took off into the night.

It was the equivalent of a Saturday evening on Midgard. The night was alive with good spirits- lights were on everywhere, dotting the towering structures like fireflies, and there was a larger cluster of airships than usual. You heard laughter and chattering all around. A small group of men hollered at you from somewhere, bottles in hand. Your party burst out in laughter and clapping as Arja yelled profanity at them playfully. It seemed some people were already wasted away into the night.  


 

You arrived at the palace about ten minutes later, having already been in a higher-end area, and followed the steady stream of well-dressed, masked civilians towards the entrance.

You had been inside the palace once before, to restore some of the paintings. It was only somewhat familiar, though, since that was business, and this was pleasure. It was different at night- the gold columns seemed larger than before, and the walls and arches were decorated with lights. The guard was heavier, though most were directing guests rather than looking out for trouble. A faint hum of music could be heard from further inside, a joyful blend of strings, flutes, and drums. As the spirited sound seemed to lift you off your feet, you felt a sudden rush of excitement.

The crowd was scattered, but not dense, and you moved into a small line where invitations were being checked. A guard, aided by a few others, was taking the letters and examining them briefly before dropping them into a fire. The paper disintegrated instantly.

Sonya leaned towards you. “Don’t worry. There’s no way they could notice.”

You shushed her as she smiled and slinked away. When an opening appeared in front of you, you put your innocent face on- despite it being covered- and walked towards the bouncer, your friends trailing close by you.

 

“Hello.” you said, pulling out four small letters, tinged with gold at the edges. Despite three being illegitimate, they all looked identical.

Your heart pounded as the bouncer held up the invitations to inspect them, before nodding and looking back at you. “Enjoy, ladies.” He tossed them into the fire, and you swore you could hear all three of your companions release their breath collectively.

Like a small herd, you moved away together from the entrance and giggled in disbelief. Before you had gotten in, there was still the thrilling hint of doubt that it would work- after all, this _was_ the palace. You weren’t sure just how much security was involved, or whether or not they’d be able to break through your illusion magic and your talented craftsmanship. It seemed, however, that were not, much to your joy.

 

This was going to be a fun night.

  


The main ballroom was dotted with guests draped in all different shapes and shades of costume, all equally as extravagant, by Asgardian standards, all faces covered in some form of decorative mask. The anonymity made the event all the more thrilling. You had no way of scanning the room for a familiar face, nor could you be seen and recognized by anyone. The aroma of perfume and alcohol was thick.

A server glided in your direction with a tray of glasses, filled with a sparkling sort of wine that looked enchanting. You, along with your girls, picked one up and each took a sip. The bubbles danced on your tongue and tingled in your throat. It was the best you had ever tasted- the others seemed to agree, as delight washed over their pretty faces.

“This is incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it.” said Liss. “I wonder where the princes are?”

“We’ll run into them eventually.” said Sonya. “Come on. Let’s dance!”

The four of you pattered down the grand staircase and into the sea of bouncing, turning, and laughing guests. Setting your drinks down on a small table, you grabbed Sonya’s hand and let the music take you away.

 

It felt as if the melody itself had taken hold of your delicate feet and turned you into a dancing fool. The beat was simply infectious. The music was a spell that was cast over every decorated body in the room, gracing their ears and filling them with the delicious, irresistible urge to move with the rhythm. If there was anyone who could easily succumb to the spell of music, it had to be you. You laughed and celebrated like you hadn’t in a long time, spinning yourself on each others’ fingers and jumping about, moving with the rushing tide of bodies that circled the tile floor like a whirlpool.

 

You were _so_ alive.

 

 

Somewhere through the tangled mass of fanciness, as you danced around wildly, you caught a glimpse of brilliant green. Your heart skipped a beat.

The song ended, and you fell into Sonya’s arms, both of you in a laughing heap. The musicians began to play once again, and Sonya grabbed your wrist. You both pushed through the crowd and pulled yourself away from the dancers, towards the other side of the room.

It was clearer here. Most had their attention on the dance floor. There were ornate seating arrangements here and there, along with surfaces to set drinks down on, and a few small spreads of snack foods. You followed Sonya towards one, needing a chance to redeem yourself from the madness, and popped a fat grape into your mouth.

“Odin knows how to throw a party.” you said to your friend, handing her a piece of cheese.

She bit into it and nodded, her auburn curls swinging. “He doesn’t do this too often. I honestly have no idea what he’s celebrating, but I don’t care either.” Sonya was that type. She believed that life, even on Asgard, was far too short to take anything too seriously. Despite her mischievous, and sometimes immature nature, you couldn’t help but admire her.

Forgetting about your other ones entirely, you both grabbed another drink and raised them.

“To the girls’ night out?”

“To the girls’ night out. And all the dick drawings you sent me.” you responded with laughter, taking a sip.

 

As you drank, you searched the room for what you had seen before. This didn’t go unnoticed by Sonya. She tapped your arm and, with a smile, gently pointed behind you.

And there he was.

 

It being a masked ball, you would have thought he would have tried to disguise himself better. Then again, that was far out of his character. He wanted to be known, to be seen and recognized. But he still didn’t stand out glaringly. Most of his face was covered. His mask was gold, almost solid gold, and shiny. It was ornate and patterned, the most notable feature being the two very small horns that adorned the sides, like little charms. It was like he had melted his signature helmet down into a little mask.

Gods, was it enchanting.

He sat, drink in hand, chatting with a few others around him. He was smiling- oh, how you loved that smile. His dark hair was slicked back, feathered around his neck, and bounced lightly when he moved. When he did, it was elegant, like a celebrity.

He finished whatever he was saying, and his small party erupted with laughter. Then he turned his gaze towards you. Even through the mask, his blue eyes shot through you like a laser. Your heart stopped. You were frozen.

He smiled at you.

 

_He smiled at you._

 

On impulse, you smiled back and turned your head, raising your glass to hide your smile and the giggle that bubbled out of you. You looked back at Sonya, who was smirking at you.

“Wow.” you said before covering your own sheepish, uncontrolled smile with your fingers.

“He’s coming this way.” she whispered, nudging towards his direction, where he was excusing himself and getting out of his seat.

You were practically melting inside. Your heart rate soared, your limbs turned to jelly. You felt like an adoring fan meeting a celebrity for the first time- well, it wasn’t far off from that, really.

“Have fun.” Sonya cooed, slinking away.

 

When you looked back at Loki, he had disappeared entirely. You looked around, perplexed, searching aimlessly among the clusters of chattering guests.

_What in Valhalla…?_

You turned around once more, and he stood before you.

 

You couldn’t stifle your gasp.

 

“What are you looking at?” he said, playfully. His voice sounded different up close. It was gentle, harmonious, almost.

You tried your best to silence the miniature explosion that was going off in your brain. “You.” you responded, as sly as you possibly could.

His soft-looking lips curled into an impish smile. “Do I know you?”

“I don’t know.” you replied. “Do I know you?”

“I wouldn’t doubt that you did.” he teased. You fought the corners of your mouth with all your might, feeling helpless as you struggled to contain yourself in the presence of this heartthrob of a god, this almost childish crush you had. You were thankful for the mask that covered your cheeks- you had no doubt they were red as fire.

“My apologies, Loki of Asgard.” you chided in a way that almost sounded serious, bowing your head lightly.

Hearing you address him as such, you could tell, pleased him. “Are you enjoying the party?” he asked.

So, he really _did_ want a conversation with you. “Usually. Depends on if there’s good wine.” You held up your glass to make your point. “Though you probably drink this all the time, so there’s not much of a difference to you.”

Loki nodded. “What we have here tonight is what we only drink on occasions such as these. Is this your first time in the palace?”

“No.” You felt eager as you suddenly saw a chance to impress him. “I’ve done restoration on the paintings, actually. You probably wouldn’t see me, though.”

“Beautiful work.” He leaned in a little, amused. “Then why is it that you seem so familiar to me?”

Your heart began to pound. You could never recall a time in which you had come face-to-face with the God of Lies until now. Yes, _technically_ you were a god- a goddess, rather, but you were a minor one at best. You had no desire to go around announcing your title and expecting to be treated like some kind of royalty. You knew that only lead to trouble. There was no drama messier than the kind that the Gods got involved in.

 

The music stopped. Faint applause. Another song began.

On the outside, you kept your cool, playful smile. “You haven’t seen my face. How could I be familiar to you?”

From the open holes of his mask, his sapphire eyes beamed at you cunningly. “Will you not tell me who you are?”

You caved. “(Y/N). My name is (Y/N).”

“(Y/N).” he repeated, as if being presented with a gift. “A lovely name. It suits you.”

 

That was enough. You began to turn away. “I’d better get going…”

A gloved hand caught your wrist as soon as you had turned around.

 

You stopped and looked back, a deer caught in headlights.

 

His eyes were wide, and his lips were slightly open. You could tell that he was looking at you with dissatisfaction, a haunting curiosity that pleaded you to stay, for whatever reason. Was it lust? The thought, although it was before, was not impossible.

As if testing the waters, he slowly slid his fingers away from your wrist, to the dainty curve of your palm, and gently grasped it like a fine china saucer. The music, the trill of conversation, the clinking of glasses- all surrounding sound was muffled.

Loki raised your hand and pressed his lips against it.

He lingered for a second or two, enough for you to gather the feeling entirely, while looking up at you in soft appreciation. As he released your hand, he let his fingers glide along yours, the coarse fabric of his black gloves tickling your skin.

Your eyes still locked with his, you reminded yourself to breathe again. He floated away slightly, as though in water, his lips still turned up at the corners in a satisfied smirk.

 

“Come with me.”

 

You were no good at reading lips, yet you understood his whispered words perfectly. A rush of warmth flooded your body. You had the urge to pinch yourself- could you be dreaming? No. You were awake. You were _very_ awake, enough for you to realize that yes, this was, in a word, crazy. But it was a fun kind of crazy. 

Your feet blindly followed orders as you stepped forward, expecting him to lead you somewhere. In a blink, he vanished.

 _What?_ You turned around, scanning the golden walls, the flocks of people, searching for the figure that stood before you not a second ago…

 

A tinge of green caught your eye. There. He leaned against a column that stood before the staircase leading to the dancers, smiling deviously at you. But how did he get there?

 

Part of you knew that he was tricking you. But your senses were clouded with fascination, and you somehow forgot that you were dealing with a god here- the God of Mischief, no less. You gathered your skirts and hurried in his direction, setting down your glass somewhere, navigating the bodies that stood here and there, hard slippers slapping against marble floors…

Gone again. There was no puff of smoke, no fading into nothingness. He simply disappeared.

You were like a cat chasing a toy. You searched the room again, somewhat impatiently, before you caught sight of him once again. This time, he was deep within the crowd, standing still, looking directly at you and smiling as he did before.

He couldn’t just walk you somewhere. He had to make a game out of it. Taking a deep breath, you walked into the sea of dancers and pushed yourself through, giving as many “Excuse me”s and “Sorry”s as you could before you were just a few feet away from him, and…

Pop. Once again, he had vanished, and in the most inconvenient spot- arms bumped into you, feet stood on your dress, there was shuffling and prodding all around. You elbowed your way out of the crowd and to open air, where this time, you saw him standing by a closed doorway. A guard stood by it. To all others attending the ball, it was off limits. But it was _his_ ball, so you got a pass.

You walked to the door, and this time, he did not just disappear. The guard was gone, and the door was slightly ajar.

 

There would be no returning once you went through that door. With a gulp, you forced your stiffened limbs to move forward, giving into sweet temptation, pressing onward into this strange, forbidden garden that you had so suddenly become lost in.

As you began to slip through the door, you looked behind you. No one was looking in your direction. The throng of gaudy attendees laughed, sipped, and chattered as usual. Before you was light, playful energy. Behind you, in this forbidden passageway, it was dark and enticing. You were familiar with the party. You were unfamiliar with what was beyond the door behind you, for you were walking directly into the God’s grasp.

You were nervous. But you were not frightened. This was exhilarating. This was the best kind of mischief.

 

You turned forward and slipped through the door, letting it shut behind you.  


The hallway was not completely dark, dimmed only by crackling torches that aligned the stone walls. Not being part of the gala’s scenery, it was not decorated. There was a runner beneath your feet, the soft carpet dulling your hard footsteps. At the end of the hall were tall windows where moonlight streamed through, casting a white glow across the passageway.

You edged forward, taking in the surroundings. “Loki?” you squeaked out, unsure of what sort of move he would make next.

 

“I know who you are.”

 

Before you had time to react, his hands were at the corners of your eyes, and there was a rush of cool air on your face.

Startled, you jolted, spinning around to find him standing before you. His pale skin, his sharp cheekbones, his thin eyebrows- all were now revealed to you. His mask was gone. Yours was in his hand.

You stood still, frozen in place. He looked at you with a mix of satisfaction and curiosity. “Goddess of Creativity.”

“...How?” you quavered as he stepped towards you. Somehow, you felt a little less nervous. His blue eyes had a strange solace to them.

“I know all gods.” He handed your mask back to you. “There are stories about you, and how you give the gift of inspiration to the creatives of this world. Yet you choose to hide yourself in such silence. Why?”

You looked down. Yes, you knew there were stories, but they were no more than words on a page. Most were untrue. They were legends, ones you would rather ignore. You had read them, too. You knew how bizarre they got. A strange paradox, considering it was your ability to give them those ideas in the first place. Few even mentioned you, anyway.

“I’m far below you and the others.” you confessed. “What more am I meant to do?”

“You are not as far below us as you think.” he replied. “I grew up reading about you. There were depictions of you in the books we read as children. My father told me that you were real, you were not simply a myth, that you existed somewhere, but no one knew exactly who and where you were. I always wondered what you looked like.”

You blushed, in disbelief. All this time, you thought the prince of Asgard to be the last person to be familiar with you. For once, you felt important.

“I watched you dance at the festival. You were the best one there. I saw you at the theater when you sang. You had the best voice.” Loki smiled. “I’ve been wanting to meet you. I was hoping I would run into you at some point. I’ve finally had my chance, it seems.”

You couldn’t stifle your smile. “That’s funny. I’ve been wanting to meet you, too.” you replied.

“How lucky you are, then.” he said, moving closer towards you. Your heart began to race once again. His height was not far above you, and as he came nearer, you estimated that he was about a head taller than you.

 

He gently curled his finger under your chin, tilting it up to meet his face. You gazed at him in captivation. Loki was the last person you’d expect to be able to seduce someone like this, and yet you fell into his hands like putty. There was no sense of danger- not at all. No matter how strange this sudden encounter was, you felt safe. Although the wine was definitely talking right now.

“It’s a shame you hid your face for so long, and not just behind that mask. You are quite beautiful.”

Screaming. The wine was screaming.

 

You could feel every inch of your body submitting, being drawn in by him slowly. And by god, you wanted anything _but_ to stop it. He studied your features carefully, trailing his fingers along your cheek and grasping your chin before pulling it forward.

A rush of adrenaline soared through your body. You closed your eyes, and you let him pull you in and kiss you.

 

You connected with your head tilted slightly to the side, letting his lips lock with yours like a puzzle. There was a bitter sensation, a strange, warm, wet taste that felt like a sparkler on your tongue. You felt him palm your waist, firmly, but not possessively, not wanting to stray outside of your comfort zone. Instinctively, you grabbed his back, and you pulled him in closer.

He softly glided his lips against yours at a gentle pace, raising his hands up your waist ever so lightly. He broke the kiss, exhaling and looking down at you in enticement. His face glistened in the moonlight. If there was any shock that you felt before, it had completely given way to pure desire.

Feeling brave, you broke the silence. “Can we go somewhere else?”

 

He smiled mischievously. “Oh, yes.”

 

Loki grabbed your hand and turned around, gliding down the hallway. You followed eagerly behind him, feeling as though you were on the train ride to heaven, being whisked away to an unknown, forbidden paradise where all of your sweetest temptations awaited. Oh, how you couldn’t wait to get to your stop.

Down the halls, through the doors, up one flight of stairs, then another… he dashed through the moonlit palace corridors, towards what you assumed to be his chambers. You had always wondered what they looked like. You only dreamed of finding out like this.

The journey was fast. You stopped at a large door in a secluded hall, among the highest towers of the palace. Loki didn’t hesitate to enter. He opened the door and practically pulled you inside, pushing the door closed with his foot.

 

The room was clearly fit for royalty. From what you could tell in the dark, it was large, and very tidy, with its most defining feature being the curtained-off bed in the center, draped with sheer silks and dotted with cushions. There were dressers along the walls and chests where you assumed most of his belongings were stored. Beneath your feet was soft carpet. To the corner of the room was another door, and another at the other corner. A few feet from the side of the bed was an entrance that lead to what appeared to be outside- a balcony, you assumed.

You fell into his arms once again, and was instantly locked into a deep, passionate kiss. He held you tightly by the waist and groaned softly into your mouth, pressing his tongue against yours and sliding it in. Never had you done it like this before. You couldn’t remember the last time you were intimate with someone else, and it was like a brand new feeling. You swirled your tongue around his, reaching up and gripping his ebony locks as his hands moved frantically from your waist to your upper back, pulling away from you to unravel the ties that bound your dress.

With nimble fingers, he undid everything that you had spent so much time slipping yourself into hours beforehand- the ornate metal belt that sat at your waist, the long, silky ribbons that tied behind your back, the jeweled clasps that tightened your waist. You slipped off your jewelry and stepped out of your shoes, before your dress fell into a pool of fabric around your feet. You then reached behind yourself and undid your bra before tugging down your lace underwear and letting them fall to the floor.

The sudden exposure left you helplessly flustered, and you covered yourself, staring at the ground. “No,” he whispered, “Don’t be shy.” He gently took your wrists and pulled them away from your body, then ran his palms down your shoulders, admiring your naked form.

“By the gods, you’re divine.” he breathed.

Your whole body ached with lust. There was a warmth pooling at your groin.

“Loki…” you said softly, gazing up at him with longing. “I need you now…”

He wasn’t about to deny you. He turned to your side and, as you wrapped your arms around his neck for support, picked you up and carried you to the bed, setting you down gently.  


He stood at the side for a moment, pulling off his boots before climbing up to meet you as you sat up to take off his clothes. He sat on his knees, with your legs between them, helping you pull off the various components that made up his outfit and sighing in appreciation as you glided your hands across his slender frame.

As soon as his robes dropped to the floor, he dove in to taste your hungry lips once more, snaking his tongue around yours and sliding his hands across your smooth skin. You let his weight fall on top of you and you lay back, wrapping your arms around him and passionately rolling your lips against his. He released the kiss and, with fiery craving, pressed his lips against your neck, sucking a little before biting, causing you to yelp and dig your fingers into his back. He trailed his tongue along your neck, then turned his attention to your collarbone, where he planted gentle butterfly kisses along the space before the curve of your breasts, and sucked at the fleshy lump.

When he took your hardened nipple in his fingers, you turned your head to the side and moaned. You had never been touched in this way before, not by anyone, and the way he did it was beyond perfect. He kneaded your supple breast, squeezing it softly as he leaned up to kiss your neck.

“You’re perfect.” he whispered in your ear. Goosebumps prickled your skin.

Loki’s hand searched down your body, sliding across your stomach, and down your hip bone, like he was stroking a beloved pet. The further his touch moved towards your center, the hotter the rush was that surged through your veins, an intense desire that left you craving _more._ His fingers traced along your pelvis, and he moved the hand that toyed with your breast down to your waist, pressing lightly into your skin as he caressed downward.

The teasing was unbearable. You grabbed his wrist, and he looked up at you inquisitively.

“Please.” you rasped. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“Tell me what you desire, and I shall give it to you.” His voice was soft and low.

Never had you thought you would speak anything of this sort out loud, yet you were desperate, and you knew he wanted to hear it from you. “I want your fingers in me, Loki.”

 

As if waiting for a cue, he slowly drifted his hand downwards and slipped a finger between your delicate folds. He moved it around, gently, feeling your wetness and coaxing you into spreading your thighs for him. You did. He pressed down on your clit with his thumb, sending a spark through your body that made you gasp, and pushed two fingers inside of you.

You arched your neck and cried out, gripping the bedsheets. An airy, tingling sensation coursed across your skin, down to your toes, and you felt as if you were suddenly reduced to a puddle. Loki began to thrust his fingers in and out, pressing upwards against your soft inner walls, feeling around for a reaction. The one he got consisted of you whimpering and moaning, the sweet sound of his name falling from your lips over and over again. He curled his fingers upwards, and you suddenly felt like you were about to come undone, as your limbs suddenly went numb.

“Oh, fuck.. There… That… _Ah…”_ you mewled, grabbing his back and tossing your head to the side.

“How does it feel?” he asked, leaning up slightly.

“It’s… it’s so good… it’s so… hot… _mmm_ …” You whined, clawing at his back. He groaned in response, picking up the pace, pumping his fingers faster.

You felt something building up in your core, a rising, overheating sensation that was tipping further and further over the edge with every slide of his fingers. “Loki, I think I’m gonna… ahhh…”

 

Then he stopped.

 

You looked up at him in confusion to see that he was fumbling with the laces on his pants. There was a firmness that you could see under the black leather. He took them off, and you craned your neck to get a glimpse of his cock. _Holy shit._ You knew the gods were probably well endowed, but seeing it in person was very different.

He pulled the blanket over himself as he settled between your thighs, coming down to rest his forehead against yours. You gripped his back to pull him closer, and he kissed you one last time, lightly, then rubbed his erection against your silky folds.

“Are you ready?” he asked, looking at you with gracious concern and soft desire.

“Yes.” Your heart thudded in your chest.

 

He slowly pushed the head inside of you, and your stomach flipped. He slid his cock deeper and deeper inside of you, stretching you out far more than his fingers had previously. You heard him moan, a low growl that sounded so strangely unlike him, like it was a hidden side of him that no one would ever know except you. It was not painful. Instead, it was a foreign sensation, one that burned deep within you and radiated with the same airy tingling that you felt before, only far more intense. As he buried himself to the hilt, you squeezed him tighter and wrapped your legs around him.

“Oh, sweet Valhalla.” he whispered in a groan, “You’re so fucking tight.”

He planted his face in your neck and started thrusting at a slow pace, giving you time to adjust to the sensation of his thick cock sliding in and out of you. You moaned out loud, lost in the feeling, delighted in the way his smooth, slick body rubbed against yours.

“Shit, Loki… Harder…” you whined desperately, and he complied, fucking you harder and faster than before. You felt him hitting your very core, his rapid thrusts sending shockwaves through your body that raced down your spine and lit you aflame. It was unreal.

You barely noticed your eyes roll back in ecstasy. Your muscles were turning to jelly, and everything was becoming numb to pure, unbridled pleasure. Never had you thought that you could feel this way before. There was no drug in the nine realms that could send you into this kind of a high.

You were getting close again. You could feel it, the sensation of a rising, sparkling fireball deep inside of you, your fingers quivering, your walls tightening…

“Yes, that’s it, (Y/N). Come for me. Please…” he gasped, with a breathless moan, and that was enough to send you over the edge.

 

You called out, arching your neck at a seemingly impossible angle and grasping Loki’s back as tightly as you could. There was a burst of whiteness behind your eyes, and you felt hot release escape you, the fire within your core bursting into a billion stars. Your limbs trembled. Somewhere within the haziness, you heard him groan deeply with his own climax, and there was series of hot spurts on your sweat-covered chest.

Loki collapsed on top of you, the both of you panting, gasping for air, riding out aftershocks in the closeness of each other. You felt hot, thick, and heavy, but oh, _so_ satisfied.

He pushed himself up and off of you, and as you lay with your eyes closed, he slid off of the bed. You heard him patter somewhere, before returning moments later with a towel, with which he gently wiped the fluid off of your chest where he came.

After tossing the soiled towel, he climbed into bed next to you, curling up close to where you lay. You turned over on your side, meeting his affectionate gaze and smiling back at him. He reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of your face, running his fingers down your cheek.

“You may stay the night, if you like.” he said, stroking your hair.

Truth be told, there was nothing you wanted more. Your friends were probably worried about you, but there was no doubt that Sonya had a good guess at where you were. They were probably dying to hear all about it.

“Yeah.” you whispered, and he curled his hand around your head, pulling it towards him and kissing your forehead. You rested your hand on his waist and kissed his lips one last time before falling asleep.

 

Somewhere on the floor, a golden mask sat, shimmering in pale moonlight.


End file.
